O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my armor, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Shiloh: A Requiem (April 1862) by Herman Melville
Skimming lightly, wheeling still,
The swallows fly low
Over the field in clouded days,
The forest-field of Shiloh—
Over the field where April rain
Solaced the parched ones stretched in pain
Through the pause of night
That followed the Sunday fight
Around the church of Shiloh—
The church so lone, the log-built one,
That echoed to many a parting groan
And natural prayer
Of dying foemen mingled there—
Foemen at morn, but friends at eve—
Fame or country least their care:
(What like a bullet can undeceive!)
But now they lie low,
While over them the swallows skim,
And all is hushed at Shiloh.
A Villanelle by me
It flew down swiftly, the bat.
It flew over the brimming bay.
It startled the cat.
As the bat flew it caught a nat.
It hunted before the day.
It flew down swiftly, the bat.
As the bat flew, it scared Matt.
He jumped back and landed in some hay.
It startled the cat.
As the bat flew, it passed a rat
That was waiting anxiously for the day.
It flew down swiftly, the bat.
As the bat flew, it knocked over a hat.
With a splash, the hat fell into the brimming bay.
It startled the cat.
The bat descended to a mat.
It was the beginning of the day.
It flew down swiftly, the bat.
It startled the cat.
An I Am poem by me
I AM a pumpkin.
I WONDER why I’m about to be cut open.
I HEAR the people laughing.
I SEE the knife coming closer.
I WORRY that this will hurt.
I WANT to be back in the Pumpkin Patch.
I PRETEND this isn’t so bad.
I FEEL extreme pain.
I TOUCH a cold, hard table.
I WORRY that this will never end.
I CRY juices as a hole is carved into my side.
I AM a tortured pumpkin.
I UNDERSTAND that I’m going to die.
I SAY this isn’t fair.
I DREAM of getting away from here.
I HOPE that the knife is gone for good.
I AM a Jack-O-Lantern .
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my armor, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
Shiloh: A Requiem (April 1862) by Herman Melville
Skimming lightly, wheeling still,The swallows fly low
Over the field in clouded days,
The forest-field of Shiloh—
Over the field where April rain
Solaced the parched ones stretched in pain
Through the pause of night
That followed the Sunday fight
Around the church of Shiloh—
The church so lone, the log-built one,
That echoed to many a parting groan
And natural prayer
Of dying foemen mingled there—
Foemen at morn, but friends at eve—
Fame or country least their care:
(What like a bullet can undeceive!)
But now they lie low,
While over them the swallows skim,
And all is hushed at Shiloh.
A Villanelle by me
It flew down swiftly, the bat.
It flew over the brimming bay.
It startled the cat.
As the bat flew it caught a nat.
It hunted before the day.
It flew down swiftly, the bat.
As the bat flew, it scared Matt.
He jumped back and landed in some hay.
It startled the cat.
As the bat flew, it passed a rat
That was waiting anxiously for the day.
It flew down swiftly, the bat.
As the bat flew, it knocked over a hat.
With a splash, the hat fell into the brimming bay.
It startled the cat.
The bat descended to a mat.
It was the beginning of the day.
It flew down swiftly, the bat.
It startled the cat.
An I Am poem by me
I AM a pumpkin.
I WONDER why I’m about to be cut open.
I HEAR the people laughing.
I SEE the knife coming closer.
I WORRY that this will hurt.
I WANT to be back in the Pumpkin Patch.
I PRETEND this isn’t so bad.
I FEEL extreme pain.
I TOUCH a cold, hard table.
I WORRY that this will never end.
I CRY juices as a hole is carved into my side.
I AM a tortured pumpkin.
I UNDERSTAND that I’m going to die.
I SAY this isn’t fair.
I DREAM of getting away from here.
I HOPE that the knife is gone for good.
I AM a Jack-O-Lantern .